


Work Song

by AceDhampir



Category: Constantine (TV)
Genre: Drabble, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-28
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-26 06:26:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3840466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceDhampir/pseuds/AceDhampir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Jim go out for drinks...and maybe other things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Work Song

“John…”

”What do you want, Jim Corrigan?” those brown eyes are killing him. When he agreed to drinks…he didn’t expect this. Another case solved, another day of John moping around, internally whining about him and Zed. Crying like a child who didn’t get a lick of attention. He thought John was upset about Zed, not this.

He’s drunk. They both are, but it seems Jim’s letting it get to his head faster than the magician. There’s something about John that interests him. Whatever it is, it’s…intoxicating. More than the four bottle of beer he’s already swallowed.

His fiance died just a few months ago. Jim hasn’t come to terms with it yet. But John…God damn it, John pisses him off. All that smug British bastard does is make him angry, makes him want to deck him. God he hates him. He loves him. Damn it, he’s..

He’s lost.

“I don’t know.”

“I think y’do. I think you always know, Jimbo,” John’s tongue is silky, laced with temptation and all Jim can do is clinch his fists on the bar edge. 

“What if I said I was straight?”

“Bollocks. I know a straight man when I see one Jim. Y’don’t make eyes at me and say yer straight.”

“What if you’re not my type?” His Southern drawl drags the words as he slurs, finding it all so funny now. He’s teasing John back, trying to get the upper hand. That smoke is curling in the air, and John is laughing at him, like Jim’s such a funny little bastard. 

“I’m everybody’s type, mate.”

“Are you now?”

“Eh, mostly. Zed doesn’t think so.”

That gets a laugh from Jim, his blue eyes bright in the bar light. John takes an inhale, and then gives Jim a curious look.

“What would you do…if I..y’know?”

“You’re asking permission?”

“I’ve learned I tend to get decked in the face if I don’t at least ask.”

There’s a twitch from Jim, almost like he’s…actually considering it. And then.., Right as Jim is about to laugh it off, connection happens.

John tastes like garbage. Actual garbage. Smoke, something dark, it’s an irresistible taste as it is disgusting. Jim tastes like rain, ozone and he smells like come cheap cologne, booze…that beard of his itchy as hell but it feels so…

Nice.

There’s a hesitation when they pull apart, and John is putting out his cigarette in his beer, not paying attention. His eyes are already glazed over, brown watching him with rapt interest. Jim’s shaking like he’s never done something like this before. 

“I have a hotel,” John says, blinking, waiting. Wanting to know if this is what Jim wants too. 

“Take me to it,” what’s he doing? Jim Corrigan is a police officer, he’s…John’s a criminal. He’s killed people, convinced Jim to do the same. A master manipulator and a magician. And he’s falling for him. 

At least it can’t get any worse. Not like Jim’s going to sleep with him or anything.

Right?


End file.
